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GIFT   OF 
Clara  E.  Kimber 


THE  STORY  OF 
THE   FIRST   FLAG 


ARTHUR  CLIFFORD   KIMBER. 

First  Lieutenant,  United  States  Air  Service.     Born  at  Bayville,  New  York,  March  29, 
1896.     Killed  in  action  at  Bantheville,  France,  September  26,  1918. 


THE  STORY  OF 

THE  FIRST  FLAG 

cAn  ^Account  of  the  ^fissio/i  of 
ARTHUR  CLIFFORD  KIMBER 

•  « 

WHO,  IN   THE   MONTH   OF  MAY,    1917,   CARRIED  TO   FRANCE  THE    FIRST 
AMERICAN    FLAG    AUTHORIZED    BY   THE    UNITED    STATES    GOVERNMENT 

COMPILED  FROM  HIS  LETTERS  AND  OTHER  DOCUMENTS   BY 

CLARA  E.  KIMBER 

WITH  AN  INTRODUCTION  BY  WILLIAM  T.  MANNING, 

LETTERS   FROM  NEWTON  D.   BAKER,  DAVID  STARR  JORDAN,  RAY  LYMAN 
WILBUR,  AND  HENRY  D.  SLEEPER 


SAN  FRANCISCO 

Published  under  the  Auspices  of 

THE  FRIENDS  OF  FRANCE 
IQ2O 


K4-1 


COPYRIGHT,  MARCH,   1920 
BY  CLARA   E.   KIMBER 


rl 
' 


PRINTED    BY    THE    H.    S.    CROCKER    CO.,    INC. 
SAN    FRANCISCO 


DEDICATED 
TO 

THE  CLASS  OF   1918 

(STANFORD  UNIVERSITY) 

THE    CLASSMATES 

OF 

ARTHUR   CLIFFORD    KIMBER 

WHO    SHARED    WITH    HIM 

THE  JOY   AND   VISION 

OF   COLLEGE    DAYS 

AND   THE    FRIENDS    WHO    HEARD    WITH^HIM 
THE    CRY   OF   AGONY 

AND 
THE   CALL   OF   DUTY 

AND 

WHO    PLACED 
ALL   THAT    LIFE   HOLDS    DEAR 

UPON 
THE    ALTAR   OF    SERVICE 

FOR 
COUNTRY   AND   HUMANITY 


M34G901 


FOREWORD 

IF  //  were  not  that  he  did  what  he  wanted  to  do,  and  ac- 
complished that  which  was  dearest  to  his  heart ,  nothing 
could  reconcile  me  to  the  death  of  my  son,  who  was  to 
me  all  that  a  mother  s  heart  could  desire. 

When  I  stood  upon  the  pier  in  New  York  that  bright  day  in 
mid-May,  and  watched  the  quiet  figure  standing  aloof  on  the 
deck  of  the  "St.  Louis"  the  flag,  sheathed  in  its  long  black  case, 
in  his  hand,  I  wondered  even  then  what  would  be  my  feelings 
the  day  he  returned.  'That  day,  his  face  now  growing  dimmer 
and  more  indistinct  as  the  ship  became  a  mere  speck  in  the 
distance,  would  come  closer  and  closer,  and  his  eager  eyes  fixed 
on  me  would  be  clearly  discernible. 

I  thought  he  would  come  back.  He  took  the  flag  and  went 
away.  It  is  a  sad  and  weary  world,  but  I  am  not  alone.  Other 
mothers  have  the  same  sorrow,  and  our  homes  have  been  spared 
the  tragedies  of  many  French  and  Belgian  families. 

To  other  bereaved  families  I  can  only  say,  let  us  look  forward 
to  going  to  them,  since  they  will  not  come  back  to  us.  Many  of 
Clifford's  friends  are  with  him  now,  and  I  know  they  are 
happy.  'This  flag  which  he  carried  to  France  is  now  reposing 
in  the  Memorial  Church  of  Stanford  University,  and  this  book 
is  to  remind  me  that  the  flag,  like  the  principle  back  of  Clifford's 
life  as  a  whole,  is  imperishable,  and  represents  the  soul  of 
liberty  and  humanity. 

[VH] 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    FIRST    FLAG 

Some  day  his  book  of  letters  will  be  published.  We  are  told 
by  returning  aviators  who  lived  at  the  front  with  Clifford,  and 
fought  beside  him  in  the  air,  that  during  the  last  Jew  weeks  of 
his  life  he  never  spoke  of  himself,  and,  although  cheerful,  was 
continually  silent.  Many  things  have  proved  to  me  that  he 
knew  he  was  destined  to  go  to  a  new  Commanding  Officer,  and  a 
larger  field  of  action,  and  he  grimly  went  forward  to  meet  his 
destiny.  If  he  did  not  talk  to  his  comrades,  he  poured  out  his 
heart  in  his  letters  to  his  mother  and  brothers,  and  we  feel  that 
we  journeyed  with  him  to  the  end. 

C.  E.  K. 

PALO  ALTO,  CALIFORNIA 
OCTOBER  22,  1919 


INTRODUCTION 

BY  WILLIAM  T.  MANNING 
(Rector  of  Trinity  Church,  New  York] 

THE  story  in  this  little  volume  is  one  which  will  stir 
the  heart  of  any  American,  but  for  us  who  belong 
to  Trinity  Parish  it  has  a  special  message. 
Arthur  Clifford  Kimber,  born  in  Bayville,  Long  Island, 
March  29,  1896,  was  one  of  our  own  boys,  a  child  of  the 
parish,  and  of  the  Church  in  the  fullest  sense.    He  lived  and 
grew  up  among  us.    His  father  was  for  thirty-seven  years  in 
charge  of  St.  Augustine's,  one  of  our  missionary  chapels, 
where  he  did  heroic  work  among  the  people  of  the  lower  East 
Side. 

To  us  who  knew  Clifford  well,  and  who  knew  also  the 
mother  who  imparted  her  own  spirit  to  the  sons  left  early  in 
her  sole  care,  it  seemed  quite  natural  that  this  strong,  quiet 
noble-hearted  boy  should  come  from  his  new  home  in  Cali- 
fornia, chosen  by  his  comrades  of  Stanford  University  to  be 
the  bearer  of  the  first  American  flag  officially  carried  to  the 
front.  We  were  proud  of  the  honor  shown  him,  and  we  were 
proud,  as  he  was  also,  for  the  flag  to  rest  for  a  few  hours  in  his 
home  church  of  Old  Trinity.  It  stood  before  the  altar  during 
the  services  on  Sunday,  it  was  solemnly  blessed  to  its  sacred 
purpose,  and  it  was  viewed  with  unconcealed  emotion  by 

[IX] 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    FIRST    FLAG 

large  numbers  of  people  who  saw  in  it  the  symbol  of  America's 
espousal  at  last  of  the  great  cause  to  which  she  was  called, 
and  to  which  this  young  bearer  of  her  standard  was  to  give 
his  life.  There  was  complete  accord  between  the  symbol  and 
the  spirit  of  him  who  bore  it.  It  was  souls  like  that  of  Clifford 
Kimber  which  made  victory  in  this  war  a  certainty,  and  it  is 
souls  like  his  which  carry  the  world  forward  and  upward.  We 
shall  always  be  glad  that  he  rested  with  us  that  day  at  Trinity 
Church.  He  gave  his  life  willingly  for  God  and  country,  a 
true  soldier  of  the  cross  standing  not  for  "peace  at  any  price" 
but  for  righteousness  at  any  cost. 

We  give  thanks  for  his  high  example,  and  that  of  the  others 
like  him  whom  we  keep  in  loving  remembrance.  May  God 
bless  and  reward  him  and  them  in  the  other  life  where  they 
now  live  and  continue  their  faithful  service. 


[x] 


CLIFFORD 

BY  ELLEN  COIT  ELLIOTT 

He  was  a  star?  No,  never  so  remote. 
He  was  a  rushing  brook,  drawn  purling  on 
To  dash  his  eager  heart  in  flowers  of  foam 
Against  the  boulders?  More  like  that,  yet  not 
So  wayward.  Starry  hopes  and  silvery  loves 
Beckoned  him  ever,  and  his  boyish  brow 
Was  diademed  with  joy. 

Then  came  the  call. 

With  all  the  legions  of  young  souls  he  sprang 
To  lift  the  colors,  shake  them  o'er  a  world 
Where  Pity  died,  and  Freedom  lay  undone. 
But  no  fine  gesture  satisfied  his  dream. 
Steadfast  he  held  his  purpose  till  he  won 
To  challenge  Death  each  morn,  a-wing,  and  sleep 
Each  night  as  he  for  whom  at  dawn  th'  supreme 
Adventure  lies  in  wait. 

The  early  sun 

Glinted  upon  the  flying  squadron  drawn 
About  their  captain.  "Here's  the  dangerous  thing 
To  carry  bombs,  and  drop  just  there  and  there— 
The  boche's  guns  will  find  you.  Volunteers!" 

[XI] 


INTRODUCTION 

The  eager  brook  leapt  once  again  athwart 
The  rock!  The  star  gleamed  sparkling  from  our  clay! 
He  laughed.  Great  wings  whirled  up  and  bore  him  with 
His  deadly  freight  into  the  eye  of  Heaven. 
Companion  planes  swept  by.  A  roaring  flash, 
And  a  bright  spirit — unwounded  and  untamed- 
Leaped  through  the  fiery  portal  to  its  home. 


[xn] 


CONTENTS 

Page 

FOREWORD vii 

INTRODUCTION ix 

CLIFFORD  (Poem) ' xi 

PART         I.     THE  DEDICATION  OF  THE  FLAGS i 

II.     ARTHUR  KIMBER'S  MISSION 8 

III.  THE  PRESENTATION  OF  THE  FLAG 16 

IV.  DAILY  LIFE  OF  THE  SECTION — THE  CROIX  DE  GUERRE  30 
V.     A  FRENCH  PEASANT'S  HUT  — SERVICE  IN  THE  AIR  .      .  40 

VI.     EXTRACT  FROM  REPORT 58 

"       VII.     SOME  LETTERS .  60 

To  ERNEST  H.  LEACH  (Poem) 64 


[  XITI  ] 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  FIRST   FLAG 

I 


THE    DEDICATION    OF   THE    FLAGS1 

ON  TUESDAY,  April  24,  1917,  the  Friends  of  France,  in 
co-operation   with  the    recently  organized  American 
League  of  California,  wrote,  at  the  Civic  Auditorium  in  San 
Francisco,  a  significant  chapter  in  the  spiritual  history  of  the 
city. 

Between  the  hours  of  4  and  6  on  the  afternoon  of  the  day 
mentioned,  over  twelve  thousand  persons  participated  in  the 
"Leave-Taking"  tendered  by  the  two  societies  to  forty-two 
students  from  the  University  of  California  and  twenty-one 
from  Stanford  University  who  had  volunteered  for  service  in 
the  American  Ambulance  in  France.  The  young  men  were 
presented  with  brassards,  bearing  the  insignia  of  the  society, 
by  the  Friends  of  France,  and  four  American  flags — the  gift 
of  the  American  League  of  California,  to  be  taken  by  the 
volunteers  under  service  and  with  the  authority  of  the  War 
Department  to  the  battle  fronts  of  Europe — were  solemnly 
and  ceremoniously  dedicated. 

Reprinted  from  an  article  by  Porter  Garnett,  secretary  of  the  Friends  of  France,  in 
the  Argonaut  of  May  5,  1917. 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    FIRST    FLAG 

The  event  was  significant  and  impressive.  The  march  from 
the  Ferry  of  twenty-five  hundred  Berkeley  students  (of 
whom  fifteen  hundred  were  uniformed  cadets,  ordered  out 
for  the  occasion),  one  thousand  from  Stanford,  and  detach- 
ments from  the  United  States  Army  and  Navy;  the  ringing 
words  of  the  speakers  at  the  mass-meeting;  the  cheers  that 
greeted  them;  the  singing  of  national  anthems  by  thousands 
of  voices — these  bore  indisputable  evidence  that  public 
feeling  had  been  aroused. 

Whether  consciously  or  unconsciously,  the  audience  felt 
that  behind  the  ceremonies  lay  a  great  idea — the  idea  of 
Liberty!  The  flags,  the  strains  of  "America,"  of  "The  Mar- 
seillaise," and  of  "The  Star-Spangled  Banner"  were  but 
symbols  of  that  idea.  And  the  sixty-three  young  men  on  the 
platform — young  Americans  about  to  leave  their  homes  and 
their  country  on  a  mission  of  mercy,  to  serve  Humanity  by 
succoring  those  who  shed  their  blood  for  Humanity — they, 
too,  were  symbols  of  Liberty,  and  they  were  about  to  take  up 
their  service — in  France! 

Service  for  Humanity — in  France!  France,  wherein  the 
world  has  seen  the  ideal  of  democracy  nourished  and  made 
strong;  France,  wherein  the  world  has  seen  civilization  attain 
to  perfect  flowering;  France,  upholding  before  the  world 
honor  and  justice  and  giving  to  the  world  beauty;  France, 
with  her  courage  and  endurance,  too  sublime  to  be  affronted 
by  praise;  France,  with  her  vision,  her  adaptability,  her 
efficiency,  vitalized  by  the  strength,  the  dignity,  and  the 
graces  of  her  splendid  intellectual  heritage!  When,  therefore, 
in  that  hour  of  sober  exaltation  we  were  stirred  by  a  sense  of 
the  high  purposes  that  have  been  voiced  in  unison  by  the 
civilized  peoples  of  the  world,  we  were  thrilled  not  only  with 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    FIRST    FLAG 

pride  in  America — who,  breaking  at  last  her  long  and  patient 
silence,  has  so  nobly  spoken — but  with  pride  in  beholding  our 
nation  standing  by  the  side  of  France,  valiant,  resolute,  in- 
vincible in  her  glorious  wrath!  And  so,  when  M.  Neltner,  the 
French  consul-general,  was  introduced,  the  great  audience 
rose  with  one  accord  and  shouted  its  acclaim  of  the  repre- 
sentative of  France.  This  tribute,  while  it  honored  the  consul- 
general,  was  yet  uttered  from  the  hearts  of  the  people  as  a 
homage  to  France  itself,  a  homage  cried  across  land  and  sea 
to  the  anguished  but  proud  mother  of  the  bravest  men  and 
women  on  earth. 

The  speakers  were  Dr.  David  P.  Barrows,  dean  of  the 
faculties  of  the  University  of  California,  presiding;  James 
Rolph,  Jr.,  mayor  of  the  City  and  County  of  San  Francisco; 
Arthur  Arlett,  president  of  the  State  Board  of  Harbor  Com- 
missioners, representing  His  Excellency  the  Governor  of 
California;  Julien  Neltner,  consul-general  of  France;  Mrs. 
Herbert  Hoover ;  Brigadier  General  C.  A.  Woodruff,  U.  S.  A. ; 
Dr.  Ray  Lyman  Wilbur,  president  of  Stanford  University, 
chairman  of  the  American  League  of  California;  John 
Herbert  Brown,  of  the  University  of  California  Volunteers; 
LeRoy  Farnham  Krusi,  of  the  University  of  California  Vol- 
unteers; W.  B.  Bourn,  president  of  the  Friends  of  France; 
Bruce  Porter,  vice-president  of  the  Friends  of  France;  Pere 
Thiery,  of  the  Church  of  Notre  Dame  des  Victoires;  Charles 
Mills  Gayley,  Professor  of  the  English  Language  and 
Literature  at  the  University  of  California;  Rev.  Walter 
H.  Cambridge,  rector  of  the  Church  of  St.  Matthew,  San 
Mateo;  and  Brigadier  General  W.  L.  Sibert,  U.  S.  A. 

The  words  of  Mr.  W.  B.  Bourn,  president  of  the  Friends 
of  France,  were  as  follows: 

[4] 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    FIRST    FLAG 

"The  greater  battle  has  been  fought.  The  victory  is  won. 
The  soul  of  America  is  triumphant. 

"On  the  2d  of  April,  through  the  immortal  words  of  our 
President,  the  nation  spoke,  and  the  heart  of  every  true 
American  found  peace. 

"You  carry  to  France  the  flag  of  our  country — for  our 
country — for  Humanity. 

"Our  flag,  the  flags  of  heroic  France,  of  martyred  Belgium, 
of  dauntless  Britain  can  not  be  furled  until  liberty,  honor, 
and  justice  are  made  the  law  of  mankind,  for  to  that  cause  is 
dedicated  'everything  that  we  are,  everything  that  we  have.' 
We  have  outsoared  the  thought  of  self.  Victory  is  God's!" 

Striking  still  a  different  note,  which  had  its  own  peculiar 
response,  Mr.  Bruce  Porter,  vice-president  and  founder  of 
the  Friends  of  France,  said: 

"We  who,  through  this  terrible  night,  have  kept  our  eyes 
fixed  upon  noble  France,  as  the  very  day  star  of  the  world's 
hopes,  have  lived  to  see  the  dawn  breaking  in  the  east  and 
Russia  free  of  her  oppressors.  Now,  only  as  we,  the  children 
of  America,  each  in  his  deepest  heart,  realize  the  glory  of  our 
mother  in  her  great  unselfish  dedication,  will  she  be  the 
noblest,  the  most  unselfish,  the  most  glorious  of  all- 
America —  the  splendid  daylight  flooding  the  New  World  of 
'Humanity  and  the  Humanities'!" 

When  the  brassards  had  been  given  to  the  volunteers,  Pere 
Thiery,  of  the  French  Church,  delivered  the  following  bene- 
diction: 

"O  God,  whose  ways  are  inscrutable  but  always  wise  and 
just:  Thou,  who  knowest  how  to  bring  good  out  of  evil,  we 

[5] 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    FIRST    FLAG 

thank  Thee  for  giving  inspiration  to  these  young  men  to 
spend  themselves  whole  and  entire  in  the  cause  of  suffering 
humanity.  Deign,  O  Lord,  we  beseech  Thee,  to  bless  this 
generosity.  Make  these  soldiers  of  charity,  gentle,  patient, 
forbearing  amid  the  bloody  scenes  of  the  battle-field;  fill  their 
hearts  with  compassion  for  hearts  that  are  in  anguish  and 
desolation:  drive  far  from  their  hearts  any  notions  of  hatred. 
May  their  example,  yea,  their  very  presence,  add  new  energy 
to  those  who  are  battling  for  the  true,  the  right,  the  just:  may 
they  return  with  deep  gratitude  to  Thee,  O  God,  who  hast 
made  them  realize  more  and  more,  from  what  they  have 
actually  witnessed,  that  it  is  well  worth  while  for  men  to 
sacrifice  everything,  even  their  lives,  in  the  cause  of  liberty, 
truth  and  justice:  and  that  only  under  Thy  guidance,  in  con- 
formity with  these  principles,  can  the  progress  and  happiness 
of  the  human  race  be  accomplished:  chastened,  broadened, 
more  ennobled  by  their  experience,  may  they  return  safe  to 
their  own  beloved  parents,  and  be  ever  the  glory  and  pride  of 
this  great  republic.  Amen." 

Then,  to  the  music  of  fife  and  drum,  the  banners  of  the 
Allies  were  carried  up  the  aisles  by  Boy  Scouts;  the  martyr 
nations  and  the  champion  nations  side  by  side — Belgium  and 
Serbia  beside  France  and  England,  Italy,  Japan,  Portugal. 

Professor  Charles  Mills  Gayley  presented  the  American 
flags  to  the  volunteers.  The  following  dedication  of  the  flags 
was  then  pronounced  by  Rev.  Walter  Cambridge: 

"O  Almighty  God,  who  has  made  of  one  blood  all  nations 
of  men,  and  ordained  that  in  Thy  service  all  shall  be  free,  we 
give  Thee  thanks  for  the  freedom  which  our  fathers  wrought 
out  in  righteousness  and  preserved  to  us  with  their  blood;  the 

[6] 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    FIRST    FLAG 

freedom  of  which  they  made  the  flag  of  our  country  the 
symbol.  Grant  us  now  Thy  favor,  as  we  bless  in  Thy  name 
these  emblems  of  our  liberty.  Unfurled  in  foreign  lands,  may 
they  witness  there  that  our  faltering  and  neglect  are  ended, 
and  so  mightily  renew  the  courage  of  those  who  are  our  allies 
in  the  service  of  humanity.  And  to  this  end,  accept  us,  O 
Lord,  as  in  the  presence  of  these  colors  we  renew  our  solemn 
purpose  to  preserve  for  ourselves  and  for  our  children  the 
spirit  of  those  who  founded  our  institutions,  as  we  dedicate 
ourselves  to  the  effort  which  is  to  make  our  flag  everywhere 
respected  as  the  symbol  of  power  devoted  to  the  service  of 
righteousness  and  justice  and  freedom.  Grant  this,  we  pray 
Thee,  in  the  name  of  Christ.  Amen." 

The  flags  were  accepted  for  the  volunteers,  with  military 
honors,  by  Brigadier  General'  W.  L.  Sibert.  The  ceremonies 
ended  with  the  singing  of  "The  Star-Spangled  Banner." 


[7] 


II 


ARTHUR    KIMBER  S    MISSION 

ALTHOUGH  at  the  time  the  Dedication  took  place  the 
United  States  had  entered  the  war,  it  would  be  some 
time  before  there  would  be  any  American  soldiers  at  the 
front  carrying  the  American  flag.  It  was  decided,  therefore, 
to  obtain  a  Government  authorization  for  the  flags  presented 
to  the  American  volunteers  serving  or  about  to  serve  with 
the  American  Ambulance  organization  attached  to  the  French 
Army.  A  request  for  such  authorization  was  accordingly 
made  by  the  American  League  of  California,  in  response  to 
which  a  letter  was  received  from  the  Secretary  of  War,  offici- 
ally designating  the  flags  presented  by  the  League  as  the 
first  to  be  sanctioned  by  the  Government  representing  the 
United  States. 

APPOINTED  TO   TAKE  THE   FIRST   FLAG 

Of  the  four  flags  dedicated  at  the  Auditorium  one  was 
destined  for  the  First  Stanford  Unit  of  the  American  Am- 
bulance Field  Service,  which  was  already  in  service  in  France, 
having  left  for  the  front  in  February.  In  order  that  this  unit, 
being  the  first  to  serve,  should  have  the  honor  of  unfurling  at 
the  front  the  first  officially  authorized  flag,  the  Second  Stan- 

[8] 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    FIRST    FLAG 

ford  Unit  decided  to  send  the  flag  of  the  First  Unit  in  ad- 
vance, and  conferred  upon  one  of  its  members,  Arthur 
Clifford  Kimber,  the  honor  and  responsibility  of  carrying  it 
from  the  United  States  to  France.  The  appointment  was 
accompanied  by  the  following  letter: 

STANFORD  UNIVERSITY,  CAL., 

April  27,  1917. 
Mr.  Arthur  C.  Kimber, 
Palo  Alto,  California. 

DEAR  MR.  KIMBER: 

In  entrusting  to  you  the  care  and  delivery  of  the  official 
flag  to  be  sent  to  the  First  Stanford  Unit  of  the  American 
Ambulance  Field  Service,  we  feel  certain  that  the  mission 
will  be  safely  executed. 

It  was  the  wish  of  the  Friends  of  France  that  this  flag  be 
publicly  presented  to  the  representatives  of  the  First  Unit 
upon  your  arrival  in  Paris.  Mr.  A.  Piatt  Andrew,  founder  of 
the  American  Ambulance  Service,  will  no  doubt  be  glad  to 
arrange  the  details  of  the  presentation  for  you.  You  are 
hereby  instructed  to  convey  to  the  First  Unit  the  greetings 
and  best  wishes  of  the  entire  Second  Unit. 

As  advance  guard  of  the  Second  Stanford  Unit,  you  are 
carrying  with  you  the  hearty  fellowship  of  those  soon  to 
follow,  and  whom  you  will  join  in  Paris. 

Very  sincerely  yours, 
C.  J.  RANDAU, 

Corps  Leader. 


[9] 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    FIRST    FLAG 

The  flag,  which  was  of  silk,  bore  upon  its  staff  two  silver 
plates,  on  which  were  engraved  the  following  inscriptions: 

(i) 

PRESENTED  BY 

THE    AMERICAN    LEAGUE    OF    CALIFORNIA 
TO    THE 

FIRST  FRIENDS  OF  FRANCE  UNIT 

VOLUNTEERS    OF    STANFORD    UNIVERSITY 

TO    THE 
AMERICAN    AMBULANCE    FIELD    SERVICE 

IN    FRANCE 
FEBRUARY   4,   1917,  A.D. 


THIS    FLAG    BLESSED    BY    THE    BISHOP    OF    CALIFORNIA 
IS    THE    FIRST    AMERICAN    FLAG    TO    BE    CARRIED    IN    SERVICE 

AT    THE    FRENCH    FRONT 
WITH  THE  OFFICIAL  SANCTION  OF  THE  AMERICAN  GOVERNMENT 

FROM    SAN    FRANCISCO    TO    PARIS 

Arthur  Kimber  left  San  Francisco  on  April  28,  going 
directly  to  New  York,  where  he  was  to  take  ship.  He  did  not 
have  to  wait,  however,  until  he  reached  France  to  meet  with 
adventure.  While  he  was  in  New  York  awaiting  the  sailing  of 
his  ship,  the  ambulance  units  of  the  University  of  California 
arrived.  What  was  more  natural  than  that  the  spirit  of 
college  rivalry  should  manifest  itself  in  an  attempt  on  the 
part  of  the  California  boys  to  capture  the  Stanford  flag 

[10] 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    FIRST    FLAG 

during  a  parade?  The  capture  was  in  fact  effected  and  the 
captors  all  but  succeeded  in  making  good  their  escape  in  an 
automobile.  But  the  confidence  that  Arthur  Kimber's  com- 
rades had  reposed  in  him  was  not  misplaced,  for,  after  an 
exciting  chase  in  a  commandeered  motor,  he  regained  pos- 
session of  the  flag.  His  own  account  of  the  episode  is  con- 
tained in  a  letter  from  which  the  following  is  an  extract: 

'This  morning  (Thursday)  I  got  up  with  a  day  of  events 
and  excitement  before  me. 

"Mother  and  I  went  over  to  New  York  to  the  Waldorf- 
Astoria,  where  we  waited  for  the  U.  C.  men  to  come  down 
before  starting  the  parade.  They  seemed  exceedingly  in- 
terested in  me  and  asked  many  questions  regarding  where  I 
was  staging  and  when  going  to  sail.  I  did  not  answer  direct, 
but  changed  the  subject.  I  am  glad  now.  We  went  to  Fifty- 
ninth  Street  and  Fifth  Avenue,  where  the  parade  was  to 
start.  And  then  it  happened. 

".  .  .  Suddenly  as  I  was  getting  my  flag  ready  they 
rushed  on  me.  .  .  .  Thirty  or  forty  men  overpowered  me 
right  before  everybody,  grabbed  the  flag,  put  it  in  a  taxi  and 
rushed  it  off.  ...  I  fought  my  way  clear  and  rushed  for 
the  taxi.  It  was  speeding  up  Central  Park  drive  with  the 
Stanford  flag.  ...  I  jumped  on  the  running-board  of  a 
fine  car — I  don't  know  whose.  The  man  was  dumfounded, 
but  I  ordered  him  on  and  scolded  him  because  he  did  not  go 
full  speed.  We  picked  up  a  policeman  and  he  commanded  the 
driver  to  open  his  throttle. 

"I  guess  the  cop  thought  a  murder  had  been  committed. 
The  red  taxi  was  still  in  sight.  We  finally  caught  it,  just  after 
it  left  the  Seventy-third  Street  entrance  at  Central  Park 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    FIRST    FLAG 

West.  One  U.  C.  man  was  aboard  and,  believe  me,  he  was 
scared  when  the  angry  cop  asked  me  if  I  wanted  him  arrested. 
We  drove  back  to  where  the  parade  was  to  start  and  they 
were  waiting 

"I  got  into  my  car  escorted  by  Mr.  Myles,  a  Yale  '18  man. 
Two  liveried  chauffeurs  sat  in  front.  Some  car,  too!  There 
were  at  least  150,000  people  to  watch  the  parade.  Fifth 
Avenue  was  decorated  at  its  best  and  the  streets  were  packed 
all  the  way  down. 

"After  the  parade  Myles  and  I  motored  to  his  mother's 
Park-Avenue  apartment,  where  we  left  the  flag." 

The  flag  was  next  taken  to  the  office  of  the  American 
Ambulance  Field  Service  in  Wall  Street.  Meanwhile  the 
second  silver  plate  had  been  prepared  and  was  affixed  to  the 
staff. 

At  the  invitation  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  William  T.  Manning, 
rector  of  Trinity  Parish,  the  flag  was  then  placed  in  the 
beautiful  chancel  of  Old  Trinity  Church.  Here  it  remained 
until  the  time  for  sailing.  On  Sunday,  May  ijth,  the 
presence  of  the  flag  gave  to  the  memorable  service  a  solemn 
and  impressive  atmosphere.  Hundreds  of  people  knelt  before 
the  consecrated  emblem,  and  prayed  for  the  great  cause  to 
which  the  flag  was  dedicated.  Some  wept,  others  kissed 
the  folds  of  the  flag  and  went  out. 

On  Monday,  May  14,  1917,  the  flag  was  carried  to  the 
steamship  Saint  Louis,  which,  at  four  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon weighed  anchor  and  steamed  down  the  Hudson, 
bound  for  Liverpool. 

After  reaching  Liverpool,  the  flag  was  carried  to  London, 
where  arrangements  were  made  for  it  to  be  taken  across  the 

[12] 


CHANCEL  OF  TRINITY  CHURCH,  NEW  YORK 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    FIRST    FLAG 

Channel  on  an  English  troop-ship,  convoyed  by  destroyers 
and  aeroplanes.  After  a  night  ride  by  train  Paris  was  reached 
the  morning  of  May  26th.  On  June  ist  Arthur  Kimber  left 
Paris  for  Ligny  en  Barrois,  to  complete  his  mission  and 
deliver  to  the  First  Stanford  Ambulance  Unit,  then  in 
service  at  the  front,  the  first  American  flag  to  be  unfurled  on 
the  battlefields  of  Europe  with  the  official  sanction  of  the 
United  States  Government  after  our  entry  into  the  war. 


THE  FLAG  IN  FRANCE 


Ill 


THE    PRESENTATION    OF    THE    FLAG 

THE  following  letter  from  Arthur  Kimber  describes  the 
presentation  of  the  flag: 

June  4th,  1917 

What  a  relief!  The  flag  has  been  presented!  The  presenta- 
tion took  place  to-day,  and  I  am  going  to  tell  you  all  about  it. 
Last  night,  after  dinner,  Lieutenant  Boudrez,  in  charge  of 
our  ambulance  unit,  informed  me  that  the  presentation 
would  take  place  Monday  morning  (to-day)  at  nine  o'clock. 

I  had  a  general  idea  of  what  I  was  going  to  say,  but,  not 
expecting  that  the  presentation  would  come  off  until  Wednes- 
day or  Thursday,  I  was  not  ready.  I  didn't  go  to  bed  till 
after  n  P.M.  trying  to  think  what  I  was  going  to  say.  For 
three  hours  I  sat  in  Alan's  ambulance,  and  finally  turned  in, 
having  got  things  in  some  shape. 

The  General  of  the  division  to  which  we  are  attached  was 
not  able  to  be  present,  for  he  had  to  go  to  the  place  that  the 
Crown  Prince  has  been  so  anxious  to  capture  for  the  last 
three  years,  and  where  we  are  soon  to  follow.  Colonel  Colon 
was  put  in  charge  of  the  ceremony.  Two  French  regiments 
were  to  be  present.  And  right  now  let  me  say  that  never 
before  has  such  an  honor  been  conferred  on  any  American 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    FIRST    FLAG 

force  in  France — not  only  to  carry  the  First  Official  Flag,  but 
to  have  had  such  a  welcome  from  the  French  Army. 

We  got  up  at  6:20  this  morning,  and  started  to  get  ready 
to  go  to  Treveray,  where  the  presentation  was  to  take  place. 
Two  men  left  early  to  go  to  other  towns  for  the  standards  of 
French  regiments  en  repos  there.  They  also  took  to  the 
meeting  place  the  French  color-bearers  and  guards  of  honor. 

Lieutenant  Boudrez,  Mr.  FishofF  (who  served  as  French- 
English  interpreter),  and  I,  in  the  staff  car,  left  at  7:30  A.M. 
We  were  driven  by  a  splendid  French  army  chauffeur,  who 
kept  up  a  constant  speed  of  thirty-five  to  forty  miles  an  hour, 
around  corners  and  through  villages,  and  past  all  kinds  of 
vehicles  and  obstructions.  It  was  thrilling  the  way  we 
skimmed  by  wagons,  not  missing  them  by  more  than  an  inch, 
and  all  at  that  devilish  speed.  The  complete  ambulance  unit, 
crowded  into  five  of  the  ambulances,  followed  us,  but  at  a 
much  less  reckless  speed.  They  were  soon  lost  to  view. 

Our  car  arrived  about  eight  o'clock.  I  met  Colonel  Colon, 
and  through  Fishoff  received  instructions  as  to  how  I  was  to 
proceed.  (And  when  I  got  out  on  the  field  of  review,  I  was 
mighty  glad  to  have  received  instructions.)  The  field  of  re- 
view was  on  the  top  of  a  high  hill  overlooking  the  valley  and 
village,  and  with  a  wonderful  view  in  all  directions.  As  we 
approached  we  could  see  company  after  company  of  French 
soldiers  maneuvering  into  position.  They  all  wore  the  steel 
helmets  and  had  the  bayonets  in  place. 

First  the  Colonel  reviewed  the  troops  by  riding  up  and 
down  in  front  of  them.  Then  he  took  his  place  just  in  front, 
and  I  marched  to  position  with  a  French  guard  of  honor,  and 
the  staff  officers  and  guards  took  their  places  in  our  rear. 
Right  in  front  of  them  were  Alan  Nichols,  "Doc"  Speers  (to 

[17] 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    FIRST    FLAG 

be  official  color-bearer  after  the  presentation),  and  Walter 
Snook.  Nichols  and  Snook  are  now  escorts  to  the  colors. 
Behind  them  were  the  French  flags  and  regimental  standards, 
with  their  guards  of  honor,  and  behind  them  the  band.  The 
Stanford  boys  lined  up  in  back  of  them.  To  either  side  were 
the  two  regiments  and  the  two  mounted  officers. 

At  a  signal  from  the  Colonel  I  started  my  speech.  As  far  as 
I  can  remember  it,  it  was  as  follows: 

"Colonel  Colon,  Lieutenant  Boudrez,  Members  of  the 
First  Stanford  Unit  of  the  American  Ambulance  Field 
Service,  Soldiers  of  the  French  Army,  and  Other  Persons 
present: 

"A  few  days  after  war  was  declared  between  the  United 
States  and  Germany,  and  the  United  States  of  America  be- 
came one  of  the  allies  of  France  in  this  great  world  struggle 
which  we  are  now  witnessing,  this  flag  was  dedicated  in 
California,  to  be  carried  to  France  as  the  official  standard  of 
the  First  Stanford  Unit  of  the  American  Ambulance  Field 
Service,  and  was  presented  to  the  Second  Stanford  Unit  to 
be  carried  to  the  men  already  serving  at  the  French  front. 
These  dedicatory  services  took  place  April  24,  1917,  in  San 
Francisco's  new  Civic  Auditorium,  with  fifteen  thousand 
persons  present.  It  is  the  first  American  flag  officially  sanc- 
tioned by  the  United  States  Government  to  be  carried  in 
service  at  the  French  front. 

"The  Stanford  men  in  whom  this  valuable  confidence  was 
placed  felt  it  to  be  their  duty  to  get  the  flag  to  the  men  at  the 
front  with  the  least  possible  delay  and  yet  with  the  utmost 
surety.  They  tried  to  make  arrangements  to  send  the  flag  on 
ahead,  but  were  met  with  disappointment.  Finally,  rather 

[18] 


ARTHUR  KIMBER  DELIVERS  HIS   PRESENTATION  SPEECH  AT  TREVERAY 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    FIRST    FLAG 

than  wait  too  long,  they  selected  me  to  bear  the  flag  to 
France,  and  I  assure  you  I  deeply  appreciated  the  honor 
bestowed  upon  me.  I  believe  it  is  altogether  fitting  and  proper 
upon  this  occasion  for  me  to  read  you  two  letters  which  I 
was  given  upon  leaving  Palo  Alto,  April  27,  1917." 

(At  this  pointy  the  letter  from  the  Secretary  of  IVar^  Mr. 
Bakery  was  read;  also  the  letter  from  the  Second  Stanford  Unit.} 

"My  instructions  were  to  bring  the  flag  as  quickly  as  I 
could,  and  that  I  have  done  to  the  best  of  my  ability.  You  all 
know  the  history  of  this  flag:  how  it  was  dedicated  and 
blessed  in  California;  how  it  led  a  parade  in  New  York  down 
Fifth  Avenue  before  thousands  of  persons,  and  how  it  was 
saluted  and  cheered  by  that  vast  multitude;  how  an  attempt 
to  capture  it  was  frustrated;  how  it  reposed  in  the  chancel  of 
Old  Trinity  Church  and  was  there  seen  and  prayed  for  by 
hundreds;  and  how  it  was  carried  through  England  on  its 
way  to  France. 

"Mr.  A.  Piatt  Andrew  was  unable  to  make  arrangements 
for  public  presentation  in  Paris,  as  the  Friends  of  France  had 
hoped,  and  he  told  me  when  I  left  that  great  city  that  he 
keenly  regretted  the  fact  that  he  would  be  unable  to  be  here 
at  its  presentation  today. 

"Fellow-countrymen,  I  feel  greatly  honored  to  have  been 
selected  to  carry  this  flag  to  you,  and  I  assure  you  that  it  is 
with  a  very  deep  feeling  of  pride  and  relief  that  I  complete 
my  mission  and  hand  the  flag  over  to  Colonel  Colon,  who  will 
present  it. 

"My  Colonel,  here  is  the  flag." 

Immediately  after  finishing  my  speech,  I  handed  the  flag 
to  the  Colonel,  and  he  made  a  very  eloquent  address,  and 

[20] 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    FIRST    FLAG 

presented  the  flag  to  Roland  Speers,  who  is  now  the  official 
flag-bearer. 

Then  the  band  struck  up  the  "Star-Spangled  Banner," 
and  ended  with  the  chorus  of  the  "Marseillaise."  (Before, 
while  the  troops  were  marching  into  position,  they  had 
played  the  "Marseillaise.")  One  of  the  Stanford  boys  after- 
wards told  me  that  the  Stanford  men  were  just  on  the  verge 
of  crying,  and  that  the  tears  came  to  his  eyes  during  the 
ceremony,  speeches,  etc.,  but  that  when  the  band  struck  up 
our  national  air  right  in  back  of  them  shivers  went  down  his 
body;  and  other  men  said  they  felt  the  same. 

Just  stop  and  think!  It  is  the  first  time  in  the  history  of  the 
world  that  French  fighting  troops  have  turned  out  in  such 
an  impressive  review  in  war  times  to  be  present  at  the  official 
presentation  of  an  American  flag  to  be  carried  at  their  own 
front.  And  just  think  that  in  five  days  the  Croix  de  Guerre 
will  be  presented  to  the  section,  and  pinned  upon  this  beauti- 
ful flag,  for  our  unit  has  been  cited  for  its  splendid  work,  and 
it  has  been  officially  announced  that  we  have  a  Croix  de 
Guerre  coming.  Hasn't  Stanford  a  right  to  be  proud? 

The  band  struck  up  a  lively  march  and  led  the  review. 
When  they  reached  a  point  opposite  us,  they  drew  up  and 
halted,  and  played,  while  the  rest  went  by  in  front  of  us  to 
our  right.  First  came  the  French  colors,  those  not  with  us, 
and  their  escorts.  Then  our  lieutenant,  leading  the  Stanford 
men.  They  were  followed  by  company  after  company  of  the 
French  fighting  men. 

The  whole  presentation  was  great.  It  was  a  fitting  climax 
to  all  that  had  preceded.  And  the  Croix  de  Guerre,  pinned  on 
the  FIRST  UNITED  STATES  FLAG,  will  be  the  finishing 
touch.  Oh,  how  I  wish  you  could  have  been  present!  I  can 

[22] 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    FIRST    FLAG 

never  forget  it.  It  was  much  more  than  I  had  ever  expected. 
By  the  way,  the  mayor  of  the  town  near  which  the  pres- 
entation took  place  was  there  sketching  the  whole.  He 
made  an  excellent  drawing,  and  has  promised  to  make  me 
a  copy. 


ADDRESS    OF    COLONEL    COLON 


Soldats  de  la  Quatorzieme  Section  de  TAmbulance 
Americaine:  J'ai  le  tres  grand  honneur  de  remettre  entre  les 
mains  de  votre  porte-drapeau  et  de  confier  a  votre  garde  le 
drapeau  destine  a  la  S.S.V.I4  de  1'Ambulance  Americaine. 

Ce  drapeau,  le  premier  qui  est  ete  envoye  en  France  par  le 
Gouvernement  des  Etats-Unis,  ne  pouvait  etre  confie  en  de 
meilleures  mains. 

Vous  n'avez  pas  attendu,  en  effet,  d'avoir  au  milieu  de 
vous  cet  embleme  sacre  de  votre  grande  patrie  pour  aider  la 
France  dans  la  grande  lutte  qu'elle  doit  soutenir  avec  ses 
Allies  contre  la  barbaric  teutonne  pour  la  sauve  garde  de  la 
civilisation,  de  la  liberte,  et  des  droits  humains  toujours 
foules  aux  pieds  par  nos  cruels  ennemis. 

Depuis  longtemps,  nous  vous  avons  vus  a  Toeuvre  remplis- 
sant  en  toutes  circonstances  avec  un  courage  et  un  devoue- 
ment  remarkables,  votre  noble  mission  vis-a-vis  de  nos 
blesses  et  de  nos  malades,  et  nombreux  sont  deja  vos  com- 
patriotes  qui  ont  mele  leur  sang  a  celui  des  Francais  dans 
cette  lutte  gigantesque. 

II  y  a  plus  d'un  siecle  le  drapeau  francais  d'alors  conduisit 
sur  la  terre  americaine  une  poignee  de  heros,  qui  avaient  sac- 
rifie  d'avance  leur  vie,  afin  de  vous  aider  dans  votre  lutte 
pour  votre  independence. 

Aujourd'hui  c'est  toute  la  grande  nation  americaine  qui 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    FIRST    FLAG 

c'est  levee  a  la  voix  de  son  illustre  President  pour  voler  au 
secours  de  la  France  meurtrie  et  encore  envahie. 

Comme  jadis  notre  union  fera  notre  force,  et  bientot  vos 
couleurs  et  les  notres  unies  a  celles  de  nos  Allies  fraternelle- 
ment  melees  sur  la  champ  de  bataille,  livreront  le  monde  de 
la  tyrannic  allemande  et  assureront  a  tout  jamais  la  victoire 
du  droit,  de  la  justice,  et  de  la  liberte.  Aux  Drapeaux! 

(TRANSLATION) 

Soldiers  of  the  Fourteenth  Section  of  the  American  Am- 
bulance: I  have  the  very  great  honor  of  placing  in  the  hands 
of  your  color-bearer  and  of  confiding  to  your  keeping  the 
flag  destined  for  the  Fourteenth  Section  Sanitaire  of  the 
American  Ambulance. 

This  flag,  the  first  to  be  sent  to  France  by  the  Government 
of  the  United  States,  could  not  be  placed  in  better  hands. 

You  have  not,  in  fact,  expected  to  possess  this  sacred 
emblem  of  your  great  country,  to  aid  France  in  the  mighty 
struggle  which,  with  her  allies,  she  must  wage  against  German 
barbarism,  in  order  to  safeguard  civilization,  liberty  and  the 
rights  of  mankind  which  are  ever  trodden  under  foot  by  our 
brutal  enemies. 

We  have  seen  you  at  work  for  a  long  time  discharging, 
always  with  courage  and  remarkable  devotion,  your  noble 
mission  among  the  wounded  and  the  sick,  and  already  there 
are  many  of  your  countrymen  who  have  mingled  their  blood 
with  that  of  Frenchmen  in  this  gigantic  struggle. 

It  is  more  than  a  century  since  the  flag  of  France  led  a 
handful  of  heroes  on  American  soil,  who  risked  their  lives  in 
order  to  assist  you  in  your  struggle  for  independence. 

And  now  the  whole  great  American  nation  has  risen  at  the 

[26] 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    FIRST    FLAG 

call  of  your  illustrious  President  to  fly  to  the  aid  of  France, 
stricken  and  still  invaded. 

As  in  former  times,  our  union  is  our  strength,  and  soon 
your  colors  and  ours  and  those  of  our  Allies,  mingling  in 
brotherhood  on  the  battlefield,  shall  free  the  world  from 
German  tyranny  and  assure  for  all  time  the  victory  of  right, 
of  justice,  and  of  liberty. 


[28] 


DRAPEAUX 


IV 


DAILY    LIFE    OF   THE    SECTION THE    CROIX    DE    GUERRE 

June  22,  1917 

.  ...  In  the  meantime  a  dead  man  was  carried  out  on 
a  stretcher.  Both  legs  had  been  shot  off,  and  he  was  a 
sorry  sight.  They  put  him  in  a  dugout  about  fifty  yards  off, 
and  sent  for  the  coffin.  During  the  night  the  Germans  started 
a  "tire  de  barrage"  preliminary  to  an  attack.  It  was  won- 
derful. The  French  batteries  replied  and  made  a  regular 
curtain  of  fire  in  back  of  us.  A  German  incendiary  shell  hit  a 
big  pile  of  rockets  and  made  the  most  glorious  sight  I  have 
ever  seen  with  fireworks.  All  during  the  night  both  sides  sent 
up  rockets,  star  shells,  and  red,  white,  and  green  lights.  As 
morning  broke,  the  hill  was  covered  with  smoke  and  dirt 
thrown  up  by  the  shells.  The  gunfire  sounded  like  a  tattoo, 
it  was  so  fast  and  regular.  The  boys  had  never  heard  such  a 
barrage  fire  before,  yet  the  result  gained  was  only  a  few 
trenches.  If  they  did  all  that  for  such  a  little  attack,  what 
must  the  British  offensive  have  sounded  like! 

Believe  me,  we  were  mighty  glad  when  our  twenty- four 
hours  were  over  and  we  got  back  to  Mourmelon  to  sit  down 
and  eat  a  nice  warm  meal  which  our  cook  had  saved  for  us. 
We  turned  in  immediately. 

[30] 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    FIRST    FLAG 

.  .  .  .  I  was  rudely  awakened  this  morning,  Friday,  by  a 
great  commotion  in  camp.  Motors  were  buzzing,  and  the 
Lieutenant  was  giving  orders  in  a  very  excited  way.  The 
results  of  the  German  attack  were  just  being  felt,  and 
wounded  were  pouring  into  the  pastes  in  large  numbers.  All 
the  machines  except  the  five  which  had  just  returned  from 
duty  were  ordered  out.  That  meant  sixteen  Ford  ambulances 
tearing  out  into  the  darkness. 

At  dinner  to-day  we  learned  that  one  of  the  boys  in  Section 
28,  near  us,  had  been  killed  by  eclat  that  same  night.  They 
were  serving  further  up  the  line.  That  has  made  us  all 
serious.  Believe  me,  when  I  get  killed  (I  hope  I  won't)  it 
won't  be  in  the  trenches,  or  driving  an  ambulance,  but  I  will 
fall  to  the  earth  like  a  wounded  eagle.  But,  cheer  up,  there  is 
little  danger  in  aviation.  The  war  will  soon  be  over.  I  am 
with  you  in  spirit,  if  not  in  body,  and  am  always  thinking  of 
you,  and  when  we  shall  be  together  after  the  war.  I  dream  of 
it  at  night,  and  think  of  it  by  day. 

June  27th,  1917 

....  We  just  saw  a  boche  bring  down  a  French  sausage 
(captive  observation  balloon).  The  boche  circled  around 
above,  and  then  fired  incendiary  shells.  In  a  moment  the 
balloon  was  in  flames.  A  black  speck  dropped.  It  was  the 
observer  in  his  parachute.  It  opened  and  he  floated  to  safety. 
The  wreckage  came  down,  making  a  big  trail  of  smoke.  A 
French  plane  'way  above  the  boche  started  to  dive  to  catch 
him.  He  missed  and  shot  'way  below.  That  gave  the  boche 
the  advantage  of  height,  and  the  French  aviator  wisely 
stayed  away.  The  last  we  saw,  the  boche  was  beating  it  home. 
We  just  got  back  from  Mourmelon-le-Grand,  where  they 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    FIRST    FLAG 

held  the  funeral  of  Paul  Osborne.  It  was  very  impressive, 
and  something  I  will  never  forget.  We  started  about  8:05  A.M. 
Many  of  us  rode  in  the  camion,  and  we  were  just  about  jarred 
to  pieces.  As  soon  as  we  arrived  at  the  old  aviation  pare, 
where  there  is  an  outdoor  chapel,  we  all  lined  up  in  military 
order.  Roland  Speers  carried  the  flag.  Practically  all  the  men 
in  Section  28  were  there,  wearing  steel  casques.  Altogether 
there  must  have  been  nearly  100  Americans  present.  Sections 
12,  14,  19,  27,  and  28  were  well  represented.  There  were  also 
a  large  number  of  French.  One  armed  squad  was  there  and 
acted  as  a  guard  of  honor.  Erancardiers  and  stretcher-bearers 
carried  the  coffin.  We  all  lined  up  in  front  of  the  chapel. 

Mr.  Osborne's  brother,  a  member  of  the  camion  service, 
reached  Mourmelon  just  a  short  time  after  his  brother  had  a 
relapse  and  died.  He  stood  out  in  front,  and  bore  up  bravely. 
After  prayers  had  been  read,  one  of  the  ambulances  from 
Section  28  backed  in,  and  the  brancardiers  lifted  the  coffin  in. 
Then,  slowly,  with  the  hearse  leading,  the  procession  formed, 
and  started  to  march  toward  the  graveyard.  This  was  right 
near  the  old  aviation  pare,  and  it  was  necessary  to  cross  the 
field  to  get  to  it.  Slowly  we  marched  past  the  sheds  of  Henry 
Farman,  then  the  Ecole  Nieuport,  and  finally  the  Voisin 
hangars,  then  out  into  the  field  to  the  open  grave.  Several 
more  prayers,  and  the  body  was  lowered  to  rest.  The  whole 
was  very,  very  impressive.  Few  of  the  men  spoke  until  it  was 
over.  All  were  deeply  affected. 

Afterwards  I  shook  hands  with  Osborne's  brother.  One  of 
the  men  not  in  line  had  kindly  taken  some  pictures  for  me 
with  my  camera.  I  told  Osborne  I  would  send  some  to  him 
and  his  parents.  We  had  our  own  flag  to-day,  and  Paul  Os- 
borne was  buried  under  his  own  colors. 

[33] 


TEE    STORY    OF    THE    FIRST    FLAG 

July  6th,  1917 

Wednesday,  July  4th,  1917,  just  one  month  after  the  flag 
was  officially  presented,  the  General  of  the  section  pinned  a 
Croix  de  Guerre  on  it,  in  token  of  the  French  Government's 
appreciation  of  the  excellent  services  rendered  by  S.  S.  U.  14. 
Also,  two  of  our  members  were  honored  with  Croix  de 
Guerre. 

The  day  before,  Mr.  Muhr,  in  anticipation  of  the  event, 
had  us  clean  up  the  camp  and  give  it  as  neat-looking  an 
appearance  as  possible.  We  all  worked  hard,  picking  up 
papers  and  so  forth,  with  French  bayonets,  just  like  New 
York  park  attendants. 

The  jd  had  been  terrifically  hot;  and,  as  is  usual  in  the 
Chalons  section,  hot  days  are  nearly  always  followed  by 
violent  rains,  really  precipitous.  When  we  got  up  on  the  4th, 
about  6:30,  it  was  misty  and  humid,  and  all  felt  that  rain 
was  only  a  matter  of  minutes. 

The  French  seem  to  have  a  way  for  setting  the  time  for 
outdoor  ceremony,  etc.,  very  early  and  then  delaying  a  long 
time.  We  got  into  that  awfully  jouncing  camion  and  arrived 
at  the  grounds  about  8  A.M.  It  is  bad  enough  riding  on  the 
front  seat  of  a  camion,  but  inside  is  a  fright,  for  it  bumps  and 
bumps  and  bumps.  Of  course  I  couldn't  take  any  pictures 
myself,  but  the  new  office  assistant  got  some  for  me.  Some  of 
them  were  snapped  in  the  rain,  yet  they  came  out  all  right. 

At  the  word  of  command  we  all  lined  up  in  a  single  file  and 
faced  the  troops  who  were  being  reviewed  by  the  General. 
There  were  many  officers  present,  and  nearly  all  had  two  or 
three  medals  on  their  chest.  (Great  sight!  I  wonder  how  they 
all  got  the  medals!)  The  four  companies  were  the  soldiers 
responsible  for  the  capture  of  Tete-Ton,  in  the  Champagne. 

[34] 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    FIRST    FLAG 

At  a  given  signal,  the  color-guard,  Nichols,  Speers  and 
Snook,  went  forward  to  the  center  of  the  hollow  square,  and 
after  an  eloquent  address  the  General  attached  the  Croix  de 
Guerre  to  the  flag. 

Then  Peter  FishofFs  name  was  called,  and  he  stepped 
forward  to  receive  his  Croix  de  Guerre.  I  was  very  glad  to  see 
him  get  it.  He  has  been  in  the  service  two  and  a  half  years, 
and  has  worked  faithfully  all  that  time.  He  deserves  his 
Croix  de  Guerre  all  right. 

Right  in  the  middle  of  the  General's  speech  it  started  to 
rain.  Beginning  with  a  drizzle,  it  was  not  five  minutes  before 
it  was  a  regular  torrent.  Everybody  was  drenched.  The  flag 
hung  drooping  and  heavy.  "Doc"  said  afterwards  that  as  the 
rain  increased  in  quantity  and  violence,  he  thought  he  could 
never  hold  the  flag,  the  leverage  was  so  great,  and  the  pull 
grew  greater.  But  of  course,  as  is  always  the  case,  the  rain 
stopped  and  the  sun  came  out,  just  as  the  ceremony  was 
completed. 

In  the  afternoon  the  Medicin  Divisionnaire  presented  Mr. 
Muhr  with  a  Croix  de  Guerre  for  his  faithful  service  since 
the  American  Ambulance  was  started.  The  Lieutenant  tried 
to  have  us  imitate  the  French  soldiers.  He  reviewed  us,  made 
us  form  a  hollow  square,  and  then  paraded  the  men  in 
columns  of  four  past  the  flag.  It  was  quite  enjoyable  to 
blunder  through  the  ceremony  after  the  French  style. 

We  had  a  regular  Fourth  of  July  spread.  We  waited  an 
hour  for  Mr.  Muhr.  Operations  commenced  at  6:30.  There 
were  about  ten  courses,  with  wine  and  champagne.  It  was  a 
real  feast  and  a  fitting  climax  to  the  day's  festivities.  Toasts 
were  given  to  Mr.  Muhr,  the  new  man,  the  French  officers, 
and  the  entire  section.  My!  but  it  was  great.  And  the  whole 

[36] 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    FIRST    FLAG 

took  place  in  a  barnyard,  under  a  shed.  But  just  think  of  a 
feast  like  that  so  near  the  firing  line.  The  new  section  had 
relieved  us  the  night  of  the  jd,  so  all  our  men  were  present, 
apart  from  those  who  left  for  Saloniki.  As  our  cook  was  "en 
permission"  we  had  a  special  cook  for  the  occasion.  After  the 
banquet,  everybody  shook  hands  with  Mr.  Muhr  and  Fish- 
off,  and  seeing  that  all  were  "lit  up,"  congratulations  and 
good  wishes  and  jokes  flew  thick  and  fast. 

Out  of  the  six  films  that  Alan  helped  me  to  develop  that 
night,  I  got  thirty-two  good  pictures. 

Paris,  December  jd,  1917 

Five  of  us  got  into  Paris  at  eight  o'clock  last  night,  after  a 
somewhat  long,  but  interesting  ride.  I  took  advantage  of  my 
pass  to  leave  camp  early  in  the  morning,  to  go  to  Tours  for 
the  last  time,  I  imagine,  for  many  months. 

Just  before  the  train  left,  I  got  my  wings  from  the  tailor. 
The  U.  S.  wings  are  silvery  white,  with  a  shield  in  the  middle, 
and  a  gold  "U.  S."  on  the  shield.  The  whole  is  on  a  black 
mounting.  They  also  gave  me  a  plain  gold-colored  eagle  in 
Paris  to-day.  This  is  fastened  with  a  pin,  but  the  wings 
are  sewed  on  the  coat  just  over  the  heart. 

'The  flag  is  safe.  Walt  Malm  is  carrying  it  back  to  the 
United  States  and  to  Stanford. 


[38] 


V 


A    FRENCH    PEASANT  S    HUT SERVICE    IN   THE    AIR 

April  9th,  1918 

Last  night  I  had  a  chance  to  get  a  real  touch  of  French 
peasant  life,  and  I  am  very  glad  I  took  the  opportunity 
presented  to  me. 

At  Issoudun  I  made  a  practice  of  taking  my  laundry  to 
Madame  -  — ,  a  kilometer  or  so  from  camp  and  past  the 
growing  American  cemetery  on  the  hill.  To-night  I  went 
after  it,  as  I  expected  to  be  ordered  to  the  front  in  a  day  or 
so.  The  weather  was  quite  snappy  as  I  strolled  up  to  the 
little  village,  and  my  hands  were  red  with  the  cold.  Madame 
with  true  hospitality  insisted  that  I  enter  and  sit  by  the  fire 
for  a  few  moments.  I  consented,  not  knowing  of  course  that 
there  was  no  fire,  but  that  they  were  going  to  build  one 
especially  for  my  benefit. 

Like  most  French  farmhouses,  the  house  had  its  front  door 
on  the  barnyard.  The  barnyard  was  like  an  enclosed  court, 
for  the  barn  and  sheds  and  outhouses  and  house  were  all 
built  under  one  roof  and  formed  a  hollow  square  with  an 
opening  on  one  side  where  there  might  have  been  a  gate. 

I  had  to  duck  my  head  to  keep  from  bumping  it  as  I 
entered  the  door.  This  was  of  heavy  oak,  the  planks  fastened 

[40] 


ARTHUR  KIMBER  AFTER  THIRTY-SIX  HOURS  CONTINUOUS  SERVICE  WITH 
THE  WOUNDED  AT  PROSNES. 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    FIRST    FLAG 

together  by  huge  iron  bolts  and  the  whole  suspended  on 
tremendous  iron  hinges.  It  had  a  great  big  old-fashioned  lock 
that  I'll  wager  you  couldn't  break  with  a  crowbar,  and  there 
were  chains  and  bolts  inside  to  hold  the  door  shut  at  night. 
The  tile  floor  of  the  rooms  within  was  lower  than  the  ground 
level  of  the  barnyard. 

I  first  stepped  into  the  little  entry  hall,  but  only  had  time 
to  observe  that  two  bedrooms  sprang  from  it  before  Madame 
grabbed  me  by  the  arm  and  shoved  me  through  another  door. 
Again  I  had  to  duck  to  prevent  fracture  of  the  skull,  into  a 
fairly  large  room  which  evidently  served  every  purpose 
under  the  sun. 

La  grandmere  had  heard  her  daughter  speak  of  the  fire 
and  had  hastily  lit  some  brush  which  was  on  the  hearth. 
Madame  literally  hit  a  wicker  chair  against  my  legs  in  back 
of  my  knees  and  I  simply  fell  into  it.  The  flames  leaped  up. 
My  chill  left  me,  for  what  with  the  fire  and  the  rousing 
cheer  the  whole  family  was  giving  me,  how  could  I  do  else 
than  warm  within  as  well  as  without?  So  I  simply  adapted 
myself  to  circumstances,  stretched  my  gawky  legs  toward 
the  hearth,  and  decided  to  stay  awhile. 

Slowly  I  collected  my  thoughts  and  made  observations. 
What  a  cheery  place  and  how  different  from  what  I  had 
imagined.  Grandma  had  left  the  room  as  I  sat  down,  so  at 
the  moment  there  were  only  two  of  us  in  the  room,  mama 
and  myself.  She  was  busy  brushing  up  and  seemingly  every- 
where at  once  in  her  hustle.  She  was  also  gathering  my 
laundry  together  and  making  it  into  a  nice  compact  bundle. 
Her  major  operations  were  being  conducted  on  a  big  table 
in  back  of  me  which  practically  blocked  one  end  of  the  room 
—that  end  with  the  windows  looking  out  on  the  barnyard; 

[42] 


THE    STORY    OF    THE     FIRST    FLAG 

but  there  was  just  room  enough  at  the  ends  of  this  table  to 
walk  around  and  take  position  on  the  long  stone  window 
seat  which  served  in  place  of  a  long  row  of  chairs  and  on 
which  were  thrown  clothes  in  the  process  of  being  mended,  a 
basket  containing  a  sewing  outfit  and  threads,  and  a  brand- 
new  pair  of  wooden  shoes.  There  were  no  window  curtains, 
but  outside  there  were  heavy  wooden  shutters,  solid  and 
built  just  like  the  door. 

At  the  other  end  of  this  living-room  was  a  regular  old- 
fashioned  French  bed,  high,  and  with  a  great  fluffy  mattress 
and  soft  quilts.  A  chair  stood  at  the  head,  and  was  evidently 
indispensable  when  it  came  to  getting  into  bed  at  night. 
This  bed,  like  the  table  and  window  seat,  was  loaded  with 
freshly  washed  clothes  (American) — Madame  does  a  big 
laundry  business,  je  pense.  Over  all  was  a  huge  canopy  and 
curtains  that  made  me  think  that  Marie  Antoinette  or 
Catherine  de'  Medici  must  have  stopped  there. 

The  brush  on  the  hearth  was  not  supposed  to  burn  long, 
and  at  this  moment,  Grandmere^  a  stooping,  bent-double  old 
creature  dressed  in  black  and  hobbling  along,  clack-clackity- 
clack-clack-clack  in  her  wooden  shoes,  entered  with  a  great 
bundle  of  sticks.  Her  hands  were  withered  and  bony,  her 
face  was  wrinkled — she  was  all  shriveled  up  and  looked 
eighty-five  at  least.  But  then  Frenchwomen  age  quickly, 
and  I  don't  suppose  she  was  over  sixty-five  or  seventy.  I 
was  reminded  of  that  woman  in  the  pastello  picture  "Before 
the  Storm"  that  Pap  got  in  France  long  ago. 

She  threw  her  load  down  with  a  crash  that  scared  the  cat 
which  was  under  the  hearth.  The  hearth  was  about  eight 
inches  above  the  floor  and  there  was  an  opening  below  for 
making  a  draft  or  something,  and  this  had  been  occupied  by 

[44] 


ARTHUR  KIMBER  WHEN  A  MEMBER  OF      LA   BANDE  NOIRE  DE  DEULLIN. 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    FIRST    FLAG 

the  cat,  a  fact  of  which  I  was  unaware.  As  pussy  scampered 
out  under  the  legs  of  my  chair  I  jumped  and  nearly  lost  my 
balance. 

And  just  then  Georgette  came  rushing  in  breathless  from 
the  shop  down  the  road  where  she  had  been  to  buy  some 
chocolate.  I  had  seen  Georgette  before  and  thought  her 
nothing  wonderful,  but  to-day  she  was  dressed  in  her  holiday 
clothes,  for  she  and  her  cousin  Claire  had  been  a  promenading 
right  before  dinner.  She  seemed  very  attractive  and  had  a 
winning  smile.  She  seemed  in  such  a  rush  that  I  asked  her, 
"  Pourquoi  si  vite,  Georgette, ma  cherie?"-  -'Claire  m  attends" 
-"  Alors,  allez  et  trouvex  Claire,  et  vene?  id  ensemble,  et  nous 
nous  parlerons  une  heure,  nest  pas,  Madamet"  from  me,  and 
a  delightfully  rich  red  blush  from  Georgette,  who  rushed  off 
as  quickly  as  she  had  come  in. 

Within  five  minutes  she  was  back  with  Claire.  We  all  drew 
our  chairs  before  the  now  roaring  blaze.  As  a  last  job  before 
sitting  down,  la  grandmere  lifted  the  cover  of  the  huge  caul- 
dron hanging  over  the  fire  and  supported  by  a  huge  chain 
from  the  mantel  (just  to  see  if  the  water  was  boiling,  I 
suppose),  and  then  she  too  sat  down  and  we  talked. 

I  cannot  remember  what  we  talked  of.  The  conversation 
was  naturally  light  and  simple  because  it  was  in  French  and 
I  had  difficulty  in  holding  my  own  in  that  tongue.  They  asked 
me  all  sorts  of  questions  about  aeroplanes  and  flying  and 
what  it  felt  like.  I  told  them  some  of  my  experiences  in 
France  and  all  about  my  machine.  They  admired  my  uni- 
form and  Sam  Browne  belt  and  little  bars,  and  my  wings. 
They  said  they  were  greatly  honored  to  have  a  lieutenant 
sit  at  their  hearth  and  talk  with  them.  They  were  very 
sincere  in  this,  I  could  see  it  clearly.  Oh,  these  peasant  people 

[46] 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    FIRST    FLAG 

are  so  simple  and  frank  and  good-hearted  and  generous! 
They  are  only  ignorant. 

Eight  o'clock  came,  then  nine  o'clock.  It  was  getting  late, 
but  I  didn't  want  to  leave.  I  was  having  a  fine  time  talking 
with  these  people,  and  was  thoroughly  enjoying  myself. 
Even  in  their  little  hovel  with  their  simple  life,  they  could 
be  happy.  Le  pere  etait  au  front.  He  came  back  every  four 
months,  but  he  was  over  forty-five,  so  was  in  back  of  the 
lines  and  not  in  the  trenches. 

Finally  I  had  to  shake  myself  loose.  I  paid  for  my  laundry, 
picked  it  up  under  my  arm,  shook  hands  with  the  whole 
crowd,  promised  to  drop  Georgette  a  card  from  the  front 
(which  promise  I  honestly  intend  to  carry  out  if  I  don't 
forget  it),  bid  them  all  au  revoir,  bonne  chance ',  et  bonne  nuity 
and  ducking  my  head  again  as  I  went  out,  to  avoid  a  crash, 
I  plunged  into  the  cold  and  darkness. 

Twenty  minutes  along  the  uneven  road,  when  a  sharp 
"Halt!  Who  goes  there?"  rang  out  in  the  still  night  air.  "A 
lieutenant  returning  from  the  village  with  his  laundry,"  I 
replied.  "It  is  late  for  laundry."  (I  wonder  just  what  he  was 
thinking  as  he  said  this.)  It  was  obvious  I  wasn't  drunk,  as 
most  late  arrivals  are.  There  was  a  slight  sarcasm  in  his 
voice  as  he  blurted  out  the  word  "laundry,"  but  I  had  the 
huge  and  awkward  bundle  of  evidence  under  my  left  arm. 

"Advance  and  be  recognized,  Lieutenant."  I  stepped  for- 
ward a  few  paces.  "All  right,  sir;  pass  on."  And  he  brought 
his  rifle  to  a  "present  arms"  while  my  right  hand  shot  up  to 
my  hat  rim  in  an  answering  salute. 

What  if  I  had  been  a  private  or  a  cadet  or  a  German 
prisoner?  The  first  would  have  gotten  a  good  lecture  punc- 
tuated by  curses  (for  a  soldier  standing  lone  guard  at  night 

[47] 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    FIRST    FLAG 

always  likes  to  let  out  his  pent-up  wicked  words)  and  would 
then  have  passed  with  a  "Good-night,"  or  "Good  luck,"  or 
"So  long,  pal."  The  third  would  have  been  shot.  The  cadet 
would  have  been  driven  to  the  guardhouse  at  the  point  of  the 
bayonet.  Lucky  I  was  a  lieutenant. 

Well,  the  evening  is  over;  I  am  tired  now  and  was  then.  I 
repeat  the  au  revoir,  bonne  chance ',  et  bonne  nuit.  And  also  lots 
of  love  to  you  dear  Mother,  John,  and  George.  God  bless 
and  keep  you! 

May  4th,  1918 

The  new  art  gallery  at  Stanford  must  be  fine.  I  would  have 
liked  to  be  at  that  Memorial  Church  service.  Some  of  the 
boys  in  the  Section  thought  that  the  flag  would  be  put  in 
the  Museum,  but  I  felt  sure  it  would  go  in  the  Memorial 
Church. 

June  i5th,  1918 

Just  as  I  am  on  the  eve  of  departure  for  the  front,  I  see  an 
article  in  the  New  York  Herald^  Paris  edition,  that  Alan  has 
died  of  wounds.  I  went  up  to  headquarters  to  find  out  about 
him,  for  I  heard  he  had  been  shot  down  in  the  French  lines, 
and  they  said  he  was  severely  wounded  in  the  back,  abdomen 
and  leg.  I  can't  make  myself  believe  the  paper.  I'm  going  to 
headquarters  now  to  see  if  it  is  true. 

Poor,  brave  Alan.  No  words  of  mine  can  do  him  justice.  I 
mourn  him,  not  so  much  because  of  his  being,  as  I  believe, 
my  best  friend,  but  because  of  what  he  was — the  man — the 
hero.  He  was  always  there,  ever  ready  to  volunteer,  never 
complaining  when  he  got  the  raw  end  of  a  deal.  Constantly 
cheerful  and  always  pure,  noble,  good,  with  high  ideals  and 

[48] 


CAPORAL  PILOTE  AMERICAIN  ALAN  H.  NICHOLS PREMIER  GROUPE 

D'AVIATION,  LEGION  ETRANGERE. 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    FIRST    FLAG 

standards  which  he  had  the  strength  to  live  up  to.  He  saw  his 
duty  in  this  war,  and  he  hesitated  not  one  whit.  Although 
serving  and  fighting  with  the  French  armies,  he  died  for  our 
Cause,  and  for  his  country,  the  United  States 

It  is  true.  Poor  old  Nick.  My  best  friend — gone.  I  spent 
this  afternoon  walking  in  the  Bois  de  Boulogne  to  compose 
myself,  selecting  the  quieter  and  less  frequented  part  of  the 
park.  Monday  I  go  to  join  a  French  escadrille,  and  I  am  to 
have  a  Spad  machine.  What  more  could  I  wish!  Look  out, 
Fritz! 

Alan  had  two  boches  officially,  besides  several  unofficial. 
He  had  been  cited  twice,  and  proposed  for  the  Medaille 
Militaire,  but  he  died  before  it  could  be  granted.  As  soon  as 
his  second  citation  arrives,  with  his  Croix  de  Guerre  and  two 
palms,  the  Captain  is  going  to  give  them  to  me  to  send  to  his 
folks  by  registered  mail. 

Alan's  loss  is  felt  by  everybody  in  the  escadrille,  from 
mechanics  up.  He  was  loved  and  admired  by  all  his  comrades. 
Never  before  have  I  heard  so  many  good  words  for  any  man. 

Sept.  15,  1918 

It  has  always  been  my  policy  to  be  perfectly  frank  with 
you  and  tell  you  everything.  If  anything  should  happen  to 
me  you  would  be  glad  to  know  of  all  my  experiences.  This 
is  war  and  war  is  in  itself  dangerous;  everybody  knows  that. 
Yesterday  I  had  the  most  thrilling  experience  in  my  life. 
Now  I  am  going  to  tell  you  all  about  it,  but  don't  allow  your- 
selves to  worry;  it  will  do  no  good.  We  chasse  pilots  run  many 
risks  daily  and  they  are  all  in  the  game. 

On  the  anniversary  of  my  enlisting  in  the  U.  S.  aviation, 
I  had  the  biggest  fight  of  my  life — September  14,  1917.  I 

[50] 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    FIRST    FLAG 

joined  up  in  Paris.  Little  did  I  dream  then  what  a  chasse 
pilot  goes  through;  now  I  know.  Yesterday  I  found  out.  But 
in  addition  I  learned  something  that  I  am  very  glad  to  know 
—I  don't  wilter  under  gun  fire  nor  do  I  lose  my  head  in  even 
an  unequal  fight  with  bullets  shrieking  and  whistling  all 
around  me  hitting  my  plane,  "Nick,"  and  just  missing  my 
head.  That  is  one  satisfaction. 

Yesterday  afternoon  eight  of  us  started  on  a  patrol  with 
the  Captain  leading.  Our  mission  was  to  create  a  safe  zone 
for  our  observation  planes  five  kilometers  ahead  of  our 
advancing  forces,  and  to  do  this  we  had  to  fly  8-9  kilometers 
north  of  our  most  advanced  lines.  Because  of  my  having  had 
a  little  more  experience  than  some  of  the  boys  I  was  placed 
on  the  left  and  to  bring  up  the  tail  and  cover  the  others. 
Rear  man  has  the  worst  position  in  case  the  patrol  is  attacked 
for  he  is  the  first  victim  picked  upon,  and  in  case  his  patrol 
attacks  he  gets  little  glory,  for  it  is  the  leading  men  who 
shoot  at  the  enemy  first. 

So  when  the  nine  Fokkers  attacked  us  six.  Little  and  I 
were  the  first  victims.  About  four  of  the  red-nosed  blue- 
bodied  machines  jumped  on  me.  They  had  height  and  were 
in  the  sun  and  all  I  could  do  was  to  wriggle.  At  that  moment 
I  looked  below  and  saw  that  five  or  six  other  Fokkers  had 
come  up  and  were  attacking  the  rest  of  the  patrol.  In  a  dog- 
fight like  that  it  soon  develops  into  each  man  for  himself 
and  the  devil  take  the  hindmost.  Well  I  was  the  hindmost, 
but  at  the  same  time  I  didn't  like  the  idea  of  being  easy  meat 
for  the  devil  huns.  We  were  about  5200  meters  high  and  10 
kilometers  in  the  boche  lines. 

I  watched  my  tail  like  a  cat  and  saw  the  enemy  come  on. 
One  especially  attracted  my  attention  and  he  was  only 

[51] 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    FIRST    FLAG 

about  75  meters  off.  He  moved  prettily  and  I  moved  like 
mad  to  get  out  of  his  sights.  But  he  wasn't  my  only  worry, 
for  there  were  three  or  four  picking  on  me  alone.  No  sooner 
would  I  avoid  one  than  another  was  firing  at  me.  Rat-tat- 
tat-tat!  What  a  sound!  And  then  a  streak  of  pale  sickly 
whitish  blue  smoke  would  whish  by  over  my  head  as  the 
bullets  flew  by.  I'll  bet  a  hundred  bullets  came  within  six 
inches  of  my  body.  Nick  was  absolutely  riddled;  I  didn't 
even  have  a  chance  to  fire  a  shot.  I  had  to  look  in  back  of  me 
all  the  time,  and  with  me  I  don't  like  to  fire  unless  my  beads 
are  on  the  other  man's  head.  There  is  no  use  firing  bullets 
wildly  if  they  are  not  going  to  hit  something.  This  is  not  a 
Fourth  of  July  celebration  just  for  noise,  sparks  and  smoke; 
and  yet  through  it  all  I  never  thought  so  quickly  or  so  clearly 
in  my  life.  My  head  was  just  as  cool  as  could  be.  It  was  a 
game  to  outwit  the  huns  and  get  away. 

With  motor  racing  full  speed  I  swung  into  a  fast  steep 
right-hand  spiral  dive;  going  down  almost  vertically  and 
yet  turning  enough  to  keep  the  other  fellow's  sights  off  me. 
Really,  to  tell  the  truth,  I've  never  seen  such  a  pretty  sight 
as  those  tracers  and  incendiary  bullets  flying  past  leaving 
their  trail  of  smoke;  but  that  smoke  smells  awful.  The  rat- 
tat-tat-tat  is  bad,  but  the  whistle  and  crack  as  the  bullets 
hit  home  in  your  machine,  ripping  the  fabric  and  breaking 
the  woodwork,  is  awful. 

For  1 200  meters  those  streaks  and  bullets  kept  flying  past 
me;  then  the  boche  seemed  to  pull  out  of  their  following 
dives,  evidently  convinced  that  they  had  sent  a  Spad  down 
out  of  control.  I  let  Nick  dive  vertically  for  another  800 
meters  just  for  good  luck  and  then  gently  pulled  him  out 
toward  our  lines.  Looking  up  and  back  I  saw  the  huns 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    FIRST    FLAG 

circling  around  like  hawks  over  their  prey.  In  the  air  was 
considerable  wreckage;  evidently  a  plane  had  exploded.  As  I 
crossed  the  lines  the  boche  kept  archying  me  with  their 
black  archies,  but  I  couldn't  help  laughing — their  shots 
went  so  wild.  My  altitude  then  was  about  3000  meters.  That 
2200  meters  was  the  fastest  I've  ever  dropped. 

Giving  Nick  the  once  over  I  decided  it  was  best  to  make 
for  our  aerodrome  and  land.  My  landing  was  terrible  and 
bouncy,  because  among  other  things  the  boche  had  shot  off 
my  left  tire.  As  I  taxied  up  to  the  hangars  a  great  crowd  of 
pilots  and  mechanics  gathered  round  my  plane  and  of  course 
they  had  to  have  the  story  and  congratulate  me  upon  getting 
away.  Nick  and  I  certainly  were  lucky;  there's  no  question 
about  that. 

My  machine  was  so  badly  shot  up  that  I'll  probably  have 
to  have  a  new  one.  The  motor  was  untouched,  so  I  am  going 
to  ask  the  Captain  if  I  can't  have  that  in  my  new  plane. 
There  were  nearly  70  holes  in  my  machine,  mostly  in  the 
fuselage  and  body.  The  three  vital  parts — my  engine,  the 
gas  tank,  and  I — were  untouched,  although  bullets  smashed 
some  struts  and  wires  not  three  inches  from  me.  The  rudder- 
control  wires  were  nearly  cut  in  two,  ditto  one  aileron  control 
and  the  left  flying  cables.  The  tail  was  nearly  shot  off,  the 
rudder  was  perforated,  and  the  left  lower  wing  was  a  wreck 
with  the  longerons  nearly  cut  away.  Three  struts  in  the  fuse- 
lage were  smashed  and  many  wires  were  severed;  the 
propeller  had  two  holes  in  it. 

Well,  it  will  be  my  turn  next  time,  and  I  certainly  do  hope 
to  have  better  luck  with  the  hun  than  he  had  with  me.  Gee, 
but  I  wanted  to  go  right  up  again  after  a  boche!  But  this  is  no 
game  for  the  single  hunter  and  the  man  who  flies  alone  in  an 

[54] 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    FIRST    FLAG 

offensive  is  a  fool;  the  hun  flies  in  formations  of  fifteen  to 
twenty.  No,  my  chance  will  come  and  I  hope  it  won't  be  in  a 
dogfight  but  in  a  duel.  I  went  up  this  morning  in  another 
fellow's  machine,  but  it  developed  motor  trouble,  so  I  had 
to  land;  but  I  have  all  my  nerve  and  I've  smelt  a  lot  of 
powder;  I'm  a  wiser  and  more  experienced  pilot. 

God  was  merciful  to  me;  I  hope  I  can  prove  myself  worthy 
of  His  mercy  in  this  war  and  in  later  life.  Well  I  must  quit; 
good-bye,  good  luck  and  lots  of  it  and  much  love.  God  bless 
you  all. 


[56] 


"That  war  insistently  devours  such  men  as  Cliford  Kimber  is  its  final 
indictment  at  the  bar  of  civilization'' — DAVID  STARR  JORDAN. 


VI 


EXTRACT    FROM   THE    REPORT   TO    CHIEF    OF   AIR    SERVICE 

I  am  quoting  below  a  report  on  the  late  Lieutenant 
Kimber  by  the  commanding  officer  of  the  squadron  in 
which  he  met  his  death  in  line  of  duty: 

"Arthur  C.  Kimber,  of  the  22d  Aero  Squadron,  who  was 
killed  in  action  September  26th,  1918,  stands  out  markedly 
as  one  of  the  bravest  American  aviators  that  fought  in  this 
war.  Even  before  he  came  to  join  the  2d  Pursuit  Group  at 
Toul  in  August,  he  had  an  enviable  record  among  Americans 
serving  in  France  with  the  Ambulance  Corps,  and  while 
attached  to  a  French  escadrille  before  joining  an  American 
squadron. 

"With  the  22d  he  was  quietly  eager  and  aggressive,  dis- 
regarding personal  advantage;  most  willing  to  do  anything 
that  pertained  to  his  line  of  duty 

"On  September  i4th  he  was  a  member  of  a  patrol  of  six 
which  was  pounced  upon  by  a  score  of  Fokkers.  From  the 
fierce  struggle  following,  Lieutenant  Hassinger  failed  to 
return,  and  Lieutenants  Brooks  and  Kimber  were  in  des- 
perate straits,  almost  shot  down  while  both  were  well  shot 
up.  Although  by  good  rights  the  plane  might  well  have  been 
replaced,  it  had  too  much  of  a  grip  on  Arthur  Kimber's 

[58] 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    FIRST    FLAG 

affections,  for  he  went  immediately  to  work  to  replace  the 
damage  by  the  Hun  bullets,  and  continued  to  fly  the  same 
Number  12  (Nick  No.  Ill,  insignia,  the  Shooting  Star). 

"On  the  26th  of  September  he  set  out  on  a  patrol  with  his 
squadron.  The  pursuit  planes  were  equipped  with  two  light 
bombs.  The  mission  was  to  strafe  roads  between  Grandpre 
and  Dun-sur-Meuse.  One  group,  led  by  Captain  Bridgman, 
went  down  to  200  meters  near  St.-Juvin,  and  scattered  a 
collection  of  boche.  Another  group  of  three,  led  by  Lieu- 
tenant Kimber,  went  to  the  region  of  Romagne.  Lieutenant 
Kimber  dived  toward  the  railroad  station.  His  machine 
suddenly  blew  to  bits.  It  is  of  course  unknown  whether  the 
shells  of  artillery  from  either  side,  or  a  bullet  from  the 
ground  into  the  bombs,  caused  the  tragedy " 

He  was  a  remarkable  pilot;  a  strong  adherent  to  the  re- 
quirements of  his  duty;  an  outstanding  type  of  American 
Air  Service  Officer. 

For  the  C.  A.  S. 

E.  C.  WHITEHEAD 
Colonel  A.  S.,  Chief  of  Staff 


[59] 


VII 


SOME    LETTERS 
FROM  THE  SECRETARY  OF  WAR 

February  18,  1920. 

I  am  interested  to  learn  that  the  first  American  flag  to 
go  officially  to  the  battlefields  of  Europe  after  our  entry  into 
the  war  has  found  its  permanent  resting  place  beside  the 
altar  of  the  chapel  of  Stanford  University,  from  whence  its 
unit  started.  The  Croix  de  Guerre  pinned  to  its  folds 
typifies  the  successful  termination  of  the  career  of  high- 
souled  adventure  of  its  guardians. 

As  one  of  the  officials  of  the  Department,  and  as  one  of  the 
citizens  of  the  country  in  whose  service  Lieutenant  Kimber 
met  his  death,  I  share  your  grief  that  the  hands  which 
carried  this  banner  eastward  across  the  ocean  might  not 
have  brought  it  back.  The  Croix,  with  the  flag,  will  stand  as 
the  most  fitting  memorial  to  those  of  its  brave  bearers  who 
did  not  return. 

Cordially  yours, 

(Signed)       NEWTON  D.  BAKER. 


[60] 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    FIRST    FLAG 
FROM   THE    CHANCELLOR  EMERITUS    OF    STANFORD    UNIVERSITY 

An  ardent  believer  in  the  ideals  of  democracy  and  peace, 
and  willing,  if  need  be,  to  give  his  life  for  them,  Arthur 
Clifford  Kimber  left  the  United  States  in  May,  1917,  as 
advance  member  of  the  Second  Ambulance  Unit  of  Stanford 
University.  On  this  trip  he  carried  with  him  an  American 
flag,  presented  by  the  "Friends  of  France"  to  the  First 
Stanford  Ambulance  Unit,  already  in  service  at  the  front. 
The  details  of  the  presentation  on  the  battlefield  are  vividly 
recounted  in  these  pages. 

The  character  of  this  young  man  was  typical  of  the  best  in 
America.  Wise,  resourceful,  and  resolute,  yet  at  the  same 
time  gentle  and  idealistic.  It  was  my  fortune  to  know  him 
well  as  a  student,  and  to  recognize  his  noble  qualities. 

That  war  insistently  devours  such  men  as  Clifford  Kimber 
is  its  final  indictment  at  the  bar  of  civilization. 

DAVID  STARR  JORDAN. 

FROM    THE    PRESIDENT   OF    STANFORD    UNIVERSITY 

Stanford  University  is  very  proud  of  its  sons  who  gave  an 
early  answer  to  the  great  call  that  came  to  us  from  Europe. 
Particularly  is  this  true  regarding  the  ambulance  units  sent 
from  the  University  to  France  before  the  official  entrance  of 
the  United  States  into  the  war.  It  will  be  hard  to  duplicate 
in  character  and  initiative  these  small  but  ardent  groups  of 
men.  The  incident  of  the  flag  described  in  this  little  book  is 
symbolic  of  the  spirit,  the  enthusiasm,  and  the  wholesome 
youth  of  the  men  who  so  nobly  represented  Stanford  on  the 
other  side.  We  take  pride  in  the  splendid  record  of  Arthur 
Kimber,  both  in  life  and  in  death.  We  think  of  him  as  a  high 
example  of  the  type  we  take  pride  in  calling  the  "Stanford 
Man."  RAY  LYMAN  WILBUR. 

[61] 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    FIRST    FLAG 
FROM   THE    DIRECTOR   OF    THE    AMBULANCE    FIELD    SERVICE    IN    AMERICA 

The  American  Field  Service,  from  the  time  of  its  inception 
at  the  beginning  of  the  war,  stood  squarely  for  the  cause  of 
France.  During  the  years  when  this  country  maintained 
perfect  neutrality,  its  ambulances  were  actually  serving  at 
the  battle-front.  As  its  efforts  became  more  widely  known, 
contributions  and  volunteers  flowed  to  France  in  steadily 
increasing  numbers,  proving  that  the  loyal  and  intelligent 
citizens  of  the  Nation  had  accepted  the  Great  Cause. 

This  volunteer  work,  permitting  immediate  action  at  the 
front,  appealed  particularly  to  the  youth  of  the  Nation, 
whose  vigor  and  idealism,  fostered  by  fine  training  in  truly 
American  homes,  impelled  them  to  take  up  the  active  burden 
of  service  and  sacrifice. 

Among  the  foremost  of  these  was  Arthur  C.  Kimber,  who 
volunteered  as  a  member  of  the  Second  Stanford  University 
Unit.  To  his  care  was  entrusted  an  American  flag,  presented 
to  the  First  Stanford  Unit,  then  serving  in  France.  This  flag 
was  accepted  by  the  War  Department,  as  one  of  the  Nation's 
official  standards.  It  was  the  first  American  flag  officially 
carried  to  the  front.  As  the  bearer  of  this  distinguished  trust 
he  may  well  have  been  anxious  to  see  it  unfurled  in  France 
without  loss  of  time;  and  soon  after  his  arrival  in  Paris  he 
had  the  satisfaction  of  being  sent  out  with  it  to  Section  14, 
where  the  flag  was  received  and  officially  recognized  by  the 
French  Army  at  a  splendid  review  and  consecration. 

When  the  Field  Service  was  taken  over  by  the  United 
States  Army,  Arthur  Kimber  decided  to  enlist  in  aviation, 
and  trained  as  a  chasse  pilot.  This  ambition  he  later  realized, 
and  during  the  heat  of  the  great  battles  over  the  fields  of 
France,  in  the  summer  of  1918,  he  was  doing  his  share  of  the 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    FIRST    FLAG 

work  as  a  fighting  scout.  It  was  while  he  was  so  flying,  and 
after  a  record  of  splendid  achievement,  that  he  was  killed 
within  the  German  lines,  September  26,  1918,  at  about  half 
past  eleven  in  the  morning. 

His  death  is  equally  mingled  with  tragedy  and  glory.  It  is 
the  eternal  epic  of  high-spirited  and  patriotic  youth.  The 
finest  blood  of  a  nation  is  always  ready  to  give  the  fullest 
sacrifice.  Those  who  are  willing  and  fit  to  give  the  most  to  life 
are  also  willing  to  give  the  most  to  death.  Though  little  may 
be  said  to  lessen  the  tragedy  of  his  loss,  or  to  add  to  the  glory 
of  his  death,  it  seems  worth  while  to  record  a  few  of  the  words 
spoken  by  General  Baratier,  at  the  grave  of  Paul  Osborne, 
killed  in  our  service  at  the  front,  in  1917: 

"My  thoughts  go  out  to  your  parents,  who,  over  there  on 
the  other  side  of  the  ocean,  will  learn  of  the  sorrow  which  has 
stricken  them.  I  know  that  words  have  no  power  to  lessen  a 
mother's  sorrow,  but  I  know,  too,  that  the  thoughts  of  the 
ideal  which  she  inspired  in  the  heart  of  her  son  will  be  able, 
if  not  to  dry  her  tears,  at  least  to  transform  them.  For  it  is 
through  these  tears,  the  tears  of  all  mothers,  of  all  women, 
that  VICTORY  will  come— that  VICTORY  which  will 
assure  the  peace  of  the  world,  and  which  will  be  theirs  more 
than  any  others',  since  they  have  paid  for  it  with  their  hearts. 

"Soldier,  sleep  on,  in  the  midst  of  your  French  comrades, 
fallen,  like  you,  in  glory;  sleep  on  beneath  the  folds  of  the 
flag  of  the  United  States,  in  the  shade  of  the  flag  of  France." 

With  the  same  spirit  that  gave  utterance  to  this  stirring 
and  tender  tribute,  will  the  memory  of  Arthur  Kimber  be 
guarded  by  his  comrades  and  compatriots. 

HENRY  D.  SLEEPER. 

[63] 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    FIRST    FLAG 

TO  ERNEST  H.  LEACH 

BY  GILBERT  N.  JEROME 

[This  poem  was  written  upon  the  death  of  one  of  several  comrades  and  warm  friends. 
Each  of  that  group  in  turn  has  "crossed  the  threshold."  Dan  Asa  Bigelow  was  killed  in 
June,  Gilbert  Jerome  was  killed  in  July,  Arthur  Kimber  in  September,  and  James  D. 
Beane  in  October,  1918.] 

It  cannot  be,  I  say  it  cannot  be. 
'Tis  but  a  moment  since  he  stood 
Here  in  our  little  group 
And  smiled  and  spoke. 
A  moment's  flight,  and  then 
He  passes  through  the  gate 
That  bars  our  view, 
Leaving  us  desolate. 

It  cannot  be,  I  say  it  cannot  be 
That  he  who  moved  among  us, 
Winning  us  all  by  deeds  and  words 
Of  quiet  friendliness, 
Has  lived  his  few  short  years, 
Only  to  slip  away 
Into  the  vanished  past, 
A  sad,  sweet  memory. 

It  cannot  be.     I  say  it  cannot  be. 
Such  friends  can  never  die. 
He  lives  beyond  the  gate; 
And  when  our  turn  shall  come 
To  step  across  that  threshold 
Into  a  world  more  fair, 
He  will  be  first  of  those 
Who  meet  and  greet  us  there. 


FOURTEEN  DAY  USE 

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